


What Friends Are For

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bonding, Breakfast, Breaking and Entering, Crying, Episode: s03e03 His Last Vow, Female Friendship, Friendship, Gen, Hugs, Identity Reveal, Mary Crying, Mary Needs A Hug, Missing Scene, Separated Mary Morstan/John Watson, Sherlock Being Sherlock, supportive Molly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 23:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7408693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After John and Mary separate following Sherlock’s shooting, Mary knows she doesn’t have many people to turn to, and she’s surprised when one friend in particular is there the next morning and chooses to stick by her side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Friends Are For

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elliedilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliedilly/gifts).



> So this is another fic written for a friend in an effort to help cheer up a faction of the Sherlock fandom, my dear friend **elliedilly** , who sent me a request asking " _What about a fic about Mary and Molly's friendship? Need some love for these badass women!_ " I've always wanted to write something where Molly knew the basics of Mary's past that Sherlock and John knew almost as soon as John knew it, since there was danger to her as well (being a close associate of theirs), and I thought this might be an opportunity to write that. The fic was inspired by the quote at the beginning of the fic by Aidan Chambers.

  
“The most memorable people in life will be the friends who loved you when you weren’t very lovable.”  
_Aidan Chambers_   


She had gone home alone the evening of the confrontation and sobbed her eyes out. She wasn’t sure whether she had lost John for good or not, but all she knew was there was a hole inside her and it was all her own doing. She had done it for the best of reasons, of course, but there was no escaping the fact that _she_ had shot Sherlock and done so matter-of-factly and _he_ was the one John cared for most in the world even if John had agreed to marry her and love her the rest of his life. Really, even being in that awful situation, knowing what she had to do and then _doing_ it, and then having Sherlock put her in the situation he did at the empty houses and then at Baker Street, the fact that there was even a _glimmer_ of a chance that John might forgive her was something.

But there was more of a chance that he wouldn’t, and she needed to be ready to accept that.

She woke up the next morning feeling damn near emptied out inside and not really caring much about anything but she knew she should get food, and that was when she realized she wasn’t alone. He senses pricked up and she reached for the gun that John hadn’t known she kept near the bedside, making her way towards the kitchen only to see Molly at the stovetop, making a full English breakfast. “Molly?” Mary asked incredulously, setting the gun on the kitchen worktop.

Molly eyed it for a moment, her eyes only getting a little wide, and then she realized Molly didn’t know the whole story. Oh, bloody hell. “I was told to come make sure you ate a proper breakfast,” she said.

“By who?” Mary asked, crossing her arms.

“Sherlock,” she said. “Before he did...whatever it was he did last night. He left a message on my mobile that I didn’t get till late.” She tilted her head. “You own a gun?”

Mary nodded. “You haven’t spoken to John yet?”

“Just a garbled drunken message, something about how you were at fault. I thought you two had had a row of some sort. I take it it’s more...extensive than that.”

“I shot Sherlock,” Mary said simply, waiting to see what Molly’s reaction would be. She knew Moly had a soft spot for him, she’d probably be livid, too, just like John. And when her hand tightened on the handle of the spatula, she was prepared to hear the riot act any minute.

“At Mr. Magnussen’s?” she asked.

Mary nodded slowly. “I was there to kill that bastard, and Sherlock got in the way. I shot him in a way that I knew would only injure him, not kill him.”

Molly was quiet for a few moments. “Why were you there to kill that bastard? Why is he a bastard? I thought he was just a businessman that your friend worked for.”

Mary blinked at that. Molly didn’t seem to be upset at all that she had shot Sherlock. That was...peculiar. Perhaps she was more upset with Sherlock’s stunt with the drugs than she had let on at the lab. Or perhaps there was more to it. Either way, she relaxed and made her way around the worktop to one of the stools on the other side and sat down. “My past isn’t exactly what I’ve made it out to be. It’s quite a bit more...colorful.” Sh paused at that. “I gave a drive to my husband for him to learn the truth, should he choose, but I can tell you the basics. I used to work for the CIA. After a time, I went freelance. Magnussen knew people who could hunt me down and kill me, kill John, kill those I was close to, all with a simple phone call. He was holding it over my head. The telegram from CAM at the wedding? It was a veiled threat from Charles Augustus Magnussen. When Sherlock told me I was pregnant at the reception, I knew I had to do _something_. I just didn’t expect the night I chose to act to be the night he chose to make a move as well.”

“I see,” Molly said slowly. Mary was afraid she had blundered until Molly spoke again. “And Sherlock seems to have forgiven you?”

“More so than John,” Mary said quietly, looking down. “I don’t...I don’t know if we’ll reconcile.”

The spatula landed with a clatter on the edge of the pan and Molly quickly turned off the heat and came around to Mary, sitting on the other stool next to her. She reached over and took Mary’s hands in her, grasping them tightly. “I know you think I would be upset about Sherlock. And I am, a little, but I understand about protecting your family, about protecting what’s important. If I was in your position I probably would have done the same thing. And if John can’t see that and forgive you then...then he’s an idiot and a fool and you don’t need him.”

“But I do,” Mary said, feeling a tear fall down her face.

“You have me,” Molly said adamantly. “I know I’m not your husband but I’m a damn good auntie and I’ll be a damn good friend and I’ll help however I can,” she said. "And maybe he’ll wise up. If Sherlock did forgive you, he will too, hopefully. He can’t keep his head up his arse forever.” Mary barked out a laugh despite herself at that. Molly let go of her hands and hugged Mary at that point, and Mary hugged her back, wrapping her arms around her, glad that at least _someone_ was there for her, and glad it was Molly, with her big heart. They stayed that way for a few moment, and then Molly pulled away. “Now then. Should I finish this fry-up, or should we get you cleaned up a bit and go out to eat?”

“You’ve put in so much work on the fry-up. Seems a shame not to finish it,” Mary said.

“Then I’ll get back to it,” Molly said with a nod, moving away and going back to the stove, turning the heat back on under the pan.

Mary smiled and then looked at her friend. “I have one question for you, Molly,” she said.

“Hmm?” Molly asked.

“How _did_ you get in here?”

Molly turned and gave her a grin. “Let’s just say someone paid attention when Sherlock demonstrated lock picking techniques.” Mary grinned back as a laugh bubbled up. Things might be hard, maybe extrememly hard, but perhaps things might be okay as well, if she was lucky, as long as she had friends like Molly around as well, she hoped.


End file.
